It snowed again. I have lost count of how many times it has snowed since the first snow, back in November, the one that kept me in the suburbs for an extra night and made me realize I needed new tires before I did anything else.
It's really pretty again, as the new snow has covered up the dark gray mucky slush stuff that everything was transformed into. I put on my galoshes to run the trash out today and didn't lose feeling in my fingers during the 30 seconds it took to complete the task, so that means it's not quite as cold as it was two weeks ago.
Last week was the first time I woke up and thought, "Ok, this is getting a little wearisome." It's still ok, I'm still fine, I'm just more excited to see colors again in a few months than I am for the snow. And they'll come; tomorrow is February, a short month, then in March we get the official start of spring. The colors and warmth will inevitable come, the blooms, the late light, the heat, then in 7 months I'll be writing about how the humidity is getting wearisome and that I'm getting excited to be bundled up and trudging through white stuff.